ba » tow ae A Come of Black Magick for Mage: The Sorcerers Crusade” by Dhil BrucatoINFERNALISM: THE PATH OF SCREAMS Hung be the heaven withrblath, jld day’o night! — Shakesptare; Hehry VI, Peril? » Written by Phil Brucato~~ WY Credits ‘Writing and Development: Phil “Danté” Brucato Editing: Nancy “Virgil” Amboy Art Direction: Richard “Doré” Thomas Art: John “Minos” Cobb, Jeff"Mephistopheles” Holt, Mark “Azazel” Jackson and Christopher “Abbadon” Shy Cover Art: Christopher Shy Front and Back Cover Design, Layout and Typesetting: Richard “Gutenberg” Thomas Sorcerers Crusade Game and Concept: Phil Brucato 735 PARK NORTH BLD. Suite 128 ClanisTon, GA 30021 USA CAME STUDIO (© 1998 White Wolf Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. Repro ducsion without the weitten permission ofthe publisher & expressly forbidden, except forthe purposes of reviews, and for blank charactet sheets, which may be repreduced for personal use only. 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Ars Magica fea trademark of Atlas Games, ‘The mention of o reference to any company ot product in these pages isnot a challenge co the erademark or copyright concerned ‘Thisbookuses he supernatural for settings, characters and hemes, All mystical and supernatural elements ate fetion and intended for entertainment purposes only. Reader discretion is advised ‘Check out White Wolf enline at heepiliwww.white-wolf.com; alt.gameswhitewolf and rec gumes frp storyteller PRINTED IN THE USA. INFERNALISM: THE PATH OF =) Special Note Although this book deals with diabolical subject mat- ter itisnotinany way intended as an incentive for devil worship. Quite the opposite. But since certain people require that things be spelled out in big, bold letters, we felt we should emphasize a few simple points: Black magick is not cool, merely stupid. Do not worship Satan. Do not kill anyone or anything. Do not kill yourself Mage is a game. Have fun. ‘Thank you. Sleep tight... Author's Dedications offer thanks to many for the completion of this book, but a few people really stand out: Wendy Blacksin, for putting up with the demons in my head. Audrey Maddox, for playing angel when my old computer went heavenward. Jess Heinig, for being our computer tech, and for packing my brain with Buddhism. Chris Early, Sam Inabiner, Jim Moore and Michael Lee, for ideas and inspiration. Rich Dansky, for reviewing my references to Judaism. Rachelle Udell, for checking the Latin. .And Mike Tinney, for making sure the Crusade continues. Thanks, folks! SHG WHITE WOLF What is Arthaus? It’s White Wolfs newest imprint. White Wolfs mission has always been tocteate art that entertains ; White Wolf Arthaus is the embodiment of this ideal. Modeled after small press, the Arthaus team strives to create those games and projects that are new, experi ‘mental and unique. White Wolf Arthaus now manages whole game lines, supports others and ‘creates specialty projects whenever possible.INFERNALISM: THE PATH OF SCREAMS Pith of Seretnse Cable of Contents Prelude to Damnation 4 Introduction Jo Chapter]: Better to Reign in Hell 16 a Chapter ]1:The Devil’s Own 30 Chapter 111: Ars Maleficarum 66 F Chapter 1V: The Devil Sends the Beast 100 Appendix 8Tha amor wht Thtvedone. ‘My singh wn as theb¢ginning of anew, etek Thep sfedonly by apaltry fla a pain liesin store forme, ghro! y sand aroused. Thave learned 13 ators like a lover's touch. Thus, to torti ffocoadémamerocternal flamesisto hand me over tocternal bliss. Fo pehiaetY fotelecil easter for the thunder in my broken limbs, Oaly the thoughts that swarm about my mind likehornetsoffer mereleasc. Clever boys! You have left me my hands, and ink and paper, too. For that courtesy, Iassume youawait confessions. Listsof names, perhaps, of those who joined meonmy moonlit revels? Of those whose properties youcanaddto your church's rolls? Of those whose unholy suggestions singed my ears tobrimstone promises and tempted me, like some quivering virgin, tospread my soul like a harlot’ fegs and Jet the Devil in? I'm afraid you will be disappointed, my kind and dous keepers. If you expecta testament of denunciations you must look to other men. 1, yousee,am far too proud of my depredations to share credit with the innocent. Pride may be sin, but itis most delicious on one's tongue. Tknow the trucreason] must burn, you ste. [know the fear that drives you through your corridorslikechildrenunder the lsh, goading you toburn folk richand poor alike. Your god is like a drunken father whose rage demands your cowardice. But], whom youcurse with demonism, have freed myself from fear. Iwill not cringe from your god's polluted pages, his scriptures of lies or his maze of terrors. Ihave looked into your eyes while Idangledin your chains, and saw men whose every waking breath is prelude to damnation. Each day, the Hell- mouth gapes wider still. And it waits or you, waitsfor the inevitable feast when your tired, pious souls oin the caravan of all flesh and stumble intoits restless, fhungry jaws. Tobluntitsteeth, you hang your halls with broken woodandchant a profanation toagilded king —asif such toyscouldsave you fromhiswrath!But youobey aspecter of fading illumination, and bend your knees tomen whose tables crawl with pestilence and shores. know: I have joined their revels, procured their slatterascaid laughtd'Torwateh this sced tossed on demons’ tongues. Such ai ait ts of frieawithgnccbae dos you agree? Andonepibefstifftosce one's formentors bow Yo deviated patriarchs, awaiting the} Bh) Sf god. Thave ‘aleyes. Dronk it for m ity. When I soon reach Hi Aine aly \oplin pitch and ligh . Is shall mock yp honest in my sing By tha from my bandages) ing humors pour free cow's milk across the m fe thought: to sanctify this pl ofiow, Beclzcbub’s hhandmaids lap 200 nother man might wave them off, but to m 9 “Each drop of corruption or blood upon their legs is a Bi Of ie that will survive in this world. Each fragment of my flesh that flies away will sing in maggots’ mealy mouths. Each fly that lands upon my legs is a testament to immortality. And so, I stretch my legs until the bindings crack and new blood moves black in the candlelight. I want Beelzebub's children to dine tonight, for I will have nothing more for them tomorrow. But you? Ah, you will fat them for a millennium! In these halls of pain, so very far from your “father's” sight, you have made a Hell on Earth and peopled it with innocents. Ican see their eyes in other cells; they huddle atthe cdgcof my sight and look away when I glance in their direction, Bound iniron shackles, I still inspire fear, you see. But you kindle greater fears than I, and terror is the Devil's bread. At mass. you crack the flesh of the christ, but here you bake the souls of men and serve them at the Devil's feast Delicious! Iam bound by iron. you by irony.But come! Let us explore my sins. The candle is beginning to gutter now, and you would be disappointed if failed to furnish your pornographies. [can see you now, you know, hands beneath your cassocks as you read these confessions. The church's walls arc cold, but you warm them with your lusts. Could this be, I wonder, why women s0 often feel your flames? Why each shaved and battered girl is interrogated past excruciation? Why you slaver ‘openly at each imagined sin? Of course! Feigned chastity has poisoned your Joins until only blood will free them. The blood of the innocent. The ashes of the just. The agonics of tortured girls. And I'm the one ‘you call Infernal! But — to the lists! My light will not last longer! hospitality.) ‘Whatbredg ight?No. Waslcarried hacaul wrapped round my, My mother surviveds6 theonebad sced, thes nbrtedssecret sins. Thp played with me asl dred Td Avash-maid {a jny father's service ves. The sirlwas ee softness of youth. I'd\y dom of the court disaster anatdisgrace. play frietds,srho sported with a faway with bastard- bellies, Iwatched this30 awordor touch that besto OF affection, asf weresomefine but distant friend. I even feigned affection for her kitten, a raddled mass of brindlefur that brazed and spat whenever Icame near. The animals know us, my ‘keepers! They sce thesparkof Hellflame kindled in our breasts. This iny thing saw my destiny far better than I myself did at the time. ‘Andso.ona bitter, windswept night, Idoused it with water whileit hunted ratsinthe courtyard. By the time itattained ts mistress’ bed, my first victim had faitly frozenstif.Itdiedsoon thereafter, When thegirlattended her chores the next diy, her eyes were red and vacant. A few soft words of empty kindness brought her tomy bed without hesitation. From he wetaessof her ncther-parts and the blood that flowed from them I learned why wolvessmile inthe night. Yousee,as the water fell upon thateat,as the warmth of her mistress spread itself across my bitterskin, the Lex Praedatorius screamed itself into my skull.This world, you sec, is filled with claws and bellies, with those who hold the blade and those who turn heir throats oitsedge. Untilthatnight, Thad felt apart from my ownkind,coldasafortressbut witha furnace within. That furnace leapt intoablaze when lembraced the blade of cruelty. Such wonders beheld then! Such powersas would make gods rembleon heir thrones! Comparedtothem, the trickling plays of menare naught but shadows. In the darkness, [licked the soiled virgin's blood from her trembling mound. Ittasted honey-sweet. Tocatalogue my sins from that night forward would take more parchment and more light than I have at my disposal. Suffice to say they fed me to my patron's door. By the time I attained the book of summoning — the Codex Licentia.if you must know —my soul had already blackened like abaker'soven. : by thattime. Nor would aur kind ministrations, otha) IndeKeapgeths of lustssatistied (Kathers Ted fhe like a succubus into hed our wedding, she shrank fromsuch discourse onceiit became her duty, not her pleasure. Onceshe had producedour sons her lusts like shriveled flowers, dried and fellaway. leaving only adry stalk and dust as memories. And so, if I sought pleasures from ale-maids and courtesans, can Ibe truly blamed? And if I milked those willing cattle with increasingcruelty.can any mansay Iwasnot just? And if [kindleda hatredin my heart for that dry temptress who now occupied my bed—ahatred that grew to titanic proportions —can it not be said she laid new seeds for my damnation in her own barrensex? Butno, will notadmit such guidance tomy fate. Yousee,itwasmy decision that led me to the Devil's banquet. Mine alone. And in making that decision, threw aside al helpmates, manners, pprenticesand rules. Ibecamemy own man. And for that [will not apologize. will not share my sins. The decision to open that final door marked mesa free soul, and fos that distinction wouldendure 10,000 bonfires kindled ll for me.(Os the night I called my Patroaus, the moon hid itself in shimming cloud- wall, According o the Laws f Solomon, I fasted, prayed andsct out the Firstand Fourth Pentacles of Saturn. In place of th ritual purification, however, [stained myself with blood and dung. Instead of angels and the god of Israel I prayed to alltthe Deep Lords of Misrule and speat my hours before the summoning with a legion of drunken whores. Thus defiled, Ioffered the lives of these unfortonates to my new patron Azuz MKahl, He Who Wanders in the Labyrinth, on the condition that he would invest me with grand knowledges and mystic gifts. He ‘ame 10 me ina tempest bright, and his voice was the filty-score serpents that acquired Eden past the Fall, His vast wings beat the night ike flocks of ravens, and his dozen eyes glimmered like the gold ina bishop's mantle. adstood Od ig Ligh, my familiar Sle i csi every image of patronkadascnscofhumor. fase tian rae Was scaled. My lessons in the Arts then lapped, purring, t the blSork began. Have you enjoyed my books? I understand you churchmen hoard such grimoires, counting them as tokens taken from the Devil’shands. Perhaps you think that by perusing such books you might leara how tostop my Infernal kind? Iiketo envision you reading my secrets after nightfall, all naked in your cells and living out my sins vicariously as youscantheis pale reflections in my tomes. Areyousosureinyour faith that you would dare keep my volumesof forbidden ore? Or perhapsyou fear that if youdid burn them, theashes wouldreturatome? Youareright tobeafraid. The Second Key of Ablamerch? I bound it in my first son's skin as my initiation to the Mysteries. Fastening his hands and feet with manacles,Icut out his tongue and stuffed his mouth with it so that no screams would betray mywork. It was, as my patron promised, a long and bloody task. My arms ached long before I was through, and my hands twitched as I pulled the skin dow. I started with the face, so that I might not remember that my source of parchment once sprang from my loins. Later, when I repeated the task with Katherina, [left her face for last. ‘The Black Book of Manu? I confess I1ook it from a rival's corpse — or to be mote precise, his library, since what was left of him would have proven poor parchment, indeed. He claimed the binding came from Mali, from some namelessslave hought with poisoned gold. TheBook contains Persian litanies, passed down, itis suid, by Ahriman to the first man who spoke to Darkness unafraid, eréke my tears. As! Ime gone. Nostake of approaching wings. Doyouhear them.too? Youshat- My flesh isnot for burning yet.etme then exuleinmy exchange. [have sold distane and uncertain happiness for present and secure: I have preserved a life, which otherwise I had lose in toreure; and I have obtained the power of procuring every bliss, es which can make that life delicious! The Injernal Spirits obey me as their Sovereign: By ther aid shall my days be past in every refinement of luxury and voluptuousness. 1 wil enjoy unrestrained the gratification of my senses: Every passion shall be indulged, even to satiety; Then will I bid my Seruants invent new pleasures, to revive and stimudate my luted appetites! I go impatient to exercise my newly-gained dominion. 1 pant to be at liberty. — Matthew Lewis, The Monk ‘The sun as setting andthe King’s justicewas done. Master Buin had acquitted himself well. Bven the most allous specta- tors appeared to be relcved thatthe show was finally over. A swweet-pork smell hung over the square lke fading scree, and ‘many good folk would slep uneasily tonight. Master Burlin was 00d at his profession. “Mind the inns,” he growled beneath his hood. “They'll cook yer digits if y'ain't careful with ‘em.” His apprentice, a queasy boy of 13 years, grimaced as he lowered severed linbs from the cuting frame. As che trainer scrubbed his filthy hands clean, fies feasted on ropy entrails wound ‘round the spit. He waved his damp hands absent, but the flies refused to scatter Tewas that kind of day. Silently, slowly, the onlookers took ther leave. The king's guardsmen shifted their horses and let the people pass. A few peasants soaked bits of rag inthe blood-pools, but most wanted ‘no reminders of the scene. The crows seemed eager enough, though; drawn by the trator's shricks, they'd waited hours for their feast—as had the human crow who stood suddenly atthe plaxform. “Pardon, good master," heasked the torturer. “What pars are for sale?” ‘Master Burlin glanced up from his sticky hands, and he chilled at the deadness in the scavenger's eyes. Stil, a man needed coins in his purse to fel lke a mem, and the king was not known for his generosity. *Youcan'thave the head,” he replied, ‘motioning to the traitor's pike skewered remains. One adven- turous crow had already alighted on the face and begun to peck ‘away. “Therestisfor sale, though, ify cam pay far coin fort.” “Oh, my coin is fair enough,” the stranger said. Behind him, a misshapen dwarf with wintry feotures hauled a small cart to the scaffold's base. "Shall we bargain, then?” ‘Master Buslin started to name a price, but stopped. Ar the spit, the flies stopped feasting, rose as one, then drifted to where the scavenger stood. Like a halo, they suwrounded him. And then, in high-bitched woices, they began to sing a hymn. The stranger smiled. His dwarf-servant coughed. Master Buln, butcher of men, looked away. His apprentice gaped and dropped a severed arm. It thudded to the platform, bounced slightly, and fell. earth Se eeeSSRIS | INFERNALISM: TRIO TSE} | THE PATH OF SES ELLSG aE PATH ‘The torturer made the sign of the cross. “Take i all,” he muttered, turning away. “No silver, i's yours. Twamt no pare (of ye." As the stranger smiled amidst the fies and his dwarf ‘retrieved the fallen arm, Master Burin sid aquiet prayer for the soul ofthe deceased. And for his own. There were, he knew, ‘worse things than death and torment In hot dushfal, she flies sang their buzzing song. Claiming Dark Inheritance Truly, this is the Devil's world. The Bible itself calls Satan “the Lord of this world,” “the Prince of the power of the air,” he who commands “all. the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them.” Anyone that powerful is worth getting to know better, especially if you happen to be poor, female, enslaved or otherwise oppressed. The Church's God is a tyrant who befriends the mighty and sells salvation for golden gifts. Why go through life suffering when the Lord of this world is only asin away? x The reasoning that leads people to the Devil's door takes a multitude of forms, from esoteric doctrines to raw hate and bloody vengeance. Some seek him as a patron of Black Arts, while otherssee himasa victim like themselves. ‘The Devil ismostaccommodating, too. Unlike the Church’s God, he does not demand thatall people worship him under asinglename; on thecontrary, he is legion. Indistant lands, he wears other guises — the angry ghost, the three-faced witch queen, the dancing avatar of earth’s destruction. In all forms, the Darkness has its followers. Such people walk the Path of Screams and Fall into the Abyss willingly, even. happily, ‘Some of them become very powerful indeed. The Devil and his hosts gift their chasen with Black Arts, with sorcerics and fatal magicks that turn these disaffected, desperate mortals into Infernal magi. Notall the servants of the Pitachieve this kindof power, but those whodo become ‘Hell'sagents here on Earth — termites in the Houseof God. All people carry the seeds of evil within them. The lures of mindless carnality or murderous rage are but a step away from the righteous passions of love and justice. In this, regard, the Awakened differnota whit from their mundane cousins, and their magicks allow them to spread evil on an epic scale. But not all malignant sorcerers are true Infernalists. The difference between an evil man and an Infemalist is one of choice. All folk commit sins; the Infernalist chooses to go beyond sin, to embrace malevo- lence, tocall upon the midnight powers — the demons, evil spirits and baneful ghosts chat haunt the night — and most of all, co nurture che devil within himself. While most folk, magus and mortal alike, strive against their inner fires, an Infemalist fans those flames, reaches out and sets the world ablaze. The Infernalist is not merely a sinner, but an enlightened mortal who has chosen to become an instru- mentof corruption —allesser Fallen angel, if you will. Mere evil is easy; dedicating one’s self to spreading evil with subelety, wit and imagination — now that's hard! Not all Infernalists are magi, either. Some wea lesser versions of Satan's crown. The midnight hills swarm with, ‘cultists; the catacombs bristle with blind wights who learn ‘morality at the Devil’s knee; the bustling courts of mer- cchant-princes teem with diabolic vermin. Asanyoneversed inthe Mysteries cansee, theservants ofthe nightare legion. ‘When they Awaken to their full potential, they blaze like Black-fire stars; but even when they remain asleep, Infernalists carry poisoned daggers in the souls. A cut from ‘even these lesser folk can be fatal. But who are they? And why dothey willingly give their immortal souls to Hell? Those who walk in light ponder these thoughts in safer moments, when Infemalists present a pustle, not a threat. The Adversary’s forces offer pretty treasures, true, and they whisper sweet lies into ignorant ‘ars. ButnotallInfernalists are fools. Many folk who Falldo so knowing the horrors they have accepted. Why? Perhaps because in this world where even Godseems to beat war with himself, devil makes a boon companion. Or ppethaps because in choosing Hell, aman shucks the yoke of God and becomes his own master... only for a while. A ighteous magus might shrug at che fool who throws away ‘eternity fora few years of pleasure, bucto chose whore only ‘hope might rise fiom Hell, chose few years might be worth forever Either way, the Path of Screams leads one place — straight down. The Fall is long, and when a soul hitsbottom its howl can be heard at Heaven's gates. Until that time, however, the Infemalist tastes a freedom few men can boast. A pity it can last forever... How to Use This Book In all lands, cultures and religions a servant of the ‘Adversary isanathema. Thus, he makes the perfect antago- nist for a Sorcerers Crusade chronicle. The threat of Infernal corruption can make allies out of enemies: the artisan, the witch, the priest and the shaman find common ‘ground in their hatred for demon-worshippers. If those servants of corruption are cartoons, the struggle against them becomes a cartoon, too. Ab, but if those antagonists become crafty dark reflections ofthe heroes' souls, the quest to purge that evil becomes a very different game... Infernalism: The Path of Sereams sheds light intothe